"Yeah," Cohen said. "The goats told you ages ago to learn human language, but you didn't listen. I don't know if the Greek Ministry's got it out for you, but nobody here's targeting you. They even built a temple to honor you."
"Then why were they tailing me with a sack?" the old Horned Serpent hissed angrily. "Those wizards had the same look as predators!"
"To keep you safe in the temple," Cohen said, rubbing his forehead. "Poachers are out there all the time. You'd be safer here than in the wild. I told you, no official group would hunt a protected creature like you over some sacrificial fish."
"?" The serpent froze, glancing at Frik, who looked baffled since he couldn't understand Cohen talking to thin air, then back at Cohen.
"Feeling better now?" Cohen asked.
"So I spent two thousand years sneaking fish for nothing?" the serpent said, dazed. "Two thousand years! Every few years, I had to rack my brain for new tricks!"
"You're the one who didn't bother learning human language," Cohen shrugged.
"What are you talking to?" Frik asked, holding his breath. "I thought I heard something…"
"It's the Horned Serpent. It's invisible, sticking close to Cohen," Newt explained. "It thought you were hunting it."
"We weren't!" Frik said, then paused. "Well…"
"The sack scared it," Cohen said with a sigh. "No matter how old or revered it is, sneaking up with a big sack is gonna freak it out. It's still mad."
"You're a Parselmouth?" Frik asked, breathless, reaching out toward where Cohen had been speaking, trying to touch the invisible creature that had witnessed Greece's rise and fall. His fingers brushed the familiar texture of scales—its horns—then the gem on its head.
"Keep poking my nose, and I'll bite your hand," the serpent snapped at Frik, still fuming.
"I told you, we're related," Cohen said, rubbing his forehead again. "It's not showing itself now—says you wasted two thousand years of its effort."
"So… it's staying with you from now on?" Frik asked, still in a daze.
Cohen turned to the serpent. "You heard him. You want to live it up here or stay in my suitcase?"
"I'm staying with my kids," the serpent said, glancing longingly at the temple's offering spot before deciding quickly. "I'm not living alone with a bunch of wizards who can't even understand me."
"You sure?" Cohen asked.
"You trying to ditch your dear old granddad?" the serpent said, its shiny eyes looking pitifully at Cohen.
"…" Cohen pursed his lips. "Wasn't planning to—"
"Then we're good!" the serpent said cheerfully, coiling around Cohen. "We done here? Let's go—gotta help the little Griffin take out its enemies."
Though Frik was disappointed not to see the serpent again, he let Cohen and Newt leave without protest.
"I saw it when I was a kid," Frik said as they were leaving. "Back then, hardly anyone knew it existed. Most thought it was some mysterious sea creature—or that Poseidon took the offerings. But one day, while praying with my priest father, I saw it. This massive, weird-looking snake was gulping down fish from the altar. I thought it'd attack me when it noticed me."
"But it bolted," Cohen said, recalling the serpent's stories of fleeing from people in the temple.
"It vanished right in front of me," Frik said, exhaling deeply. "When I told the adults, they thought I'd mistaken a wall painting for a real snake. Except my father—he told me to keep quiet and let it eat. The offerings were meant for it anyway. Every generation of priests has done the same, feeding it to protect Greece from sea monsters."
"I don't know what to say…" Cohen trailed off, feeling like saying more might ruin something. Plus, Newt had warned him not to argue with Greeks about their beliefs.
"It's enough to know it's doing well," Frik said. "And with its family, no less. Off-topic, but… which of your parents is a snake, or…?"
"A few of my 'parents' are snakes, I guess, but it's not exactly a direct relation to the Horned Serpent," Cohen said. "Anyway, we're heading out."
"Make sure to come to the festival on the first," Frik called as he saw Newt and Cohen off. "And don't go anywhere dangerous!"
"According to him, the poachers are in Patras, right?" Cohen asked Newt on the way back. "I'm heading there tomorrow. You can stay for the festival—"
"Hm?" Newt said. "You're going alone?"
"You're almost a hundred, aren't you? Chasing dark wizards with me?" Cohen teased. "Dumbledore's got no shame dragging you into this."
"It wasn't Dumbledore," Newt said, shaking his head. "I was already planning to come to Greece, and I'm curious about you and your creatures, so I asked him about it."
"Then you definitely shouldn't come," Cohen said. "Those poachers might be some cult. If you die here, there won't be a sixty-third edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
"If I backed down from trouble, that book wouldn't exist," Newt said with a chuckle, ruffling Cohen's hair. "Didn't you read the foreword?"
"The part about 'the first wizard to catch Grindelwald'?" Cohen asked.
"Tina made me write that. I thought it was a bit boastful," Newt said. "I had a lot of help and luck back then. I may be old now, but I can still handle some lowlife dark wizards. You don't need to go alone."
"Ugh, when my book blows up, I'm gonna flex like that in front of kids too," Cohen said, puffing out his cheeks. "'Sure, I took down Voldemort, but I had a ton of help…'"
(End of Chapter)